


Echoes.

by rubyrosettared



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: AU, Gen, Vampires, Werewolves, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24969502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyrosettared/pseuds/rubyrosettared
Summary: Set after the events of 'The Wolf Shaped Bullet' and before the events of season four. Nina goes into labour with unforeseen circumstances.Written before the events of season four, this one shot is completely AU. The character of Cutler who appears at the end, shares a name with the character that appeared in season four but is nothing like that character. Back when I wrote this, he was just a name. The baby's name is different at ff.net, I changed it to the canon name whilst editing it here.All errors are my own and unintentional. The canon characters of Being Human belong to Toby Whithouse et al. I just like to play with them once in a while.I wrote this way back in 2011. It's up at the other fanfiction site (you know the one!) but it's been tidied up and edited a little. Hope you like it.
Relationships: Nina Pickering & George Sands
Kudos: 6





	Echoes.

**Echoes.**

She’s used to feeling pain.

When your body is systematically broken down and reformed one night every month and you feel every bone splinter, every muscle tear, every piercing ligament snap, you’d think that the physical act of pushing a child into the world without the use of pain killing drugs would be a piece of cake wouldn’t you?

Well you’d be wrong.

George watches how Nina’s body arches off the bed as another contraction takes over. His eyes go wide as he sees her bare her teeth in pain, of how every tendon seems to stand out in relief against her skin. Her thick blonde hair is pulled ragged and he can see that she’s exhausted, utterly _exhausted_ by the entire ordeal.

“Not long now Nina,” Sally their midwife tells her and Nina glares at her.

“You said that…an _hour_ ago” she snarls at her. Instead of looking intimidated, Sally regards her calmly with that invaluable cushion of knowledge and familiarity. She’s used to the abuse, it’s often said in the midst of an intense, painful experience; she knows that once Nina has her baby in her arms, she’ll be cooing over it like all the others, the trauma of the delivery fading in her mind. No one said it will be a piece of cake.

“I know but this time I mean it, you’re almost ready to push and once that starts, you’ll have your baby before you know it. Do you know what you’re having?” She looks at George but he’s really not paying attention to the conversation. Nina follows her look and she sighs, her head flopping back onto her pillow.

“No…we don’t know… _George_!” she hisses and watches him start as he almost physically comes back to the present. His head swivels uselessly between Nina and Sally and then he stands up.

“I’ll get you…something to drink…shall I?” He doesn’t wait for a response as he walks almost unsteadily out of the delivery suite, as graceful as a newborn giraffe. Nina watches him go and she shakes her head irritably.

“Is he okay?” Sally enquires as she comes to the side of bed and begins to check her blood pressure. Nina frowns for a moment.

“He’s been under a lot of stress recently. His best friend…died and he’s been struggling to cope.”

Sally’s brown eyes soften with sympathy. “Oh I’m sorry to hear that, it has to be tough.” Nina glances up at her. She has no idea. George hasn’t slept an entire night through since it all happened and she knows that he hasn’t because she’s been the one sitting with him, listening to him mourn. Sally frowns as she checks the BP monitor.

“Your blood pressure is a little bit on the high side, I think we should see if we can hurry this labour along a little bit or maybe consider the possibility of a C-section if baby doesn’t make an appearance within the next hour,” she advises and Nina feels a shiver of foreboding skitter down her spine at her well-meant words. She understands the risks, with first time babies there’s the risk of high blood pressure, pre-eclampsia developing into full blown eclampsia which brings the risk of fits and brain damage and all of that other _wonderful_ stuff. It’s a wonder that women choose to go through all of this at all and in some cases more than once. She knows for a fact that this will be her one and only attempt at this, there’s no _way_ she’s going to volunteer for this brand of utter torture again.

Oh God, here it comes again. She takes a slow deep breath and she looks at Sally again as the pain begins to build.

“Here comes another one,” she warns her and all at once she begins to moan.

She feels this new pain blossom inside of her and she frowns at it, at how different it feels from what she has been previously feeling. This is stronger, _much_ stronger and rather than a contraction, it doesn’t build. It’s savage, it is tearing and her eyes widen. It feels like something is trying to claw its way out of her. Her arms go around her pregnant stomach as if trying to protect it, to keep it safe inside but it overwhelms her and she feels a heat pulse through the lower part of her body. Her eyes roll back into her head and she collapses back against the pillow.

Sally turns and she frowns at her. “Nina?”

Her eyes widen in horror when she sees her begin to convulse and she sees the vivid pool of red that begins to stain the once white sheets. She hits the emergency button.

* * *

George stands in front of the vending machine and stares blankly ahead, not paying attention as the machine coughs up its excuse for tea into a non-descript plastic cup.

“George.” He starts violently at the voice and then spins in its direction. His shoulders sag in defeat.

“What do you want?” he demands rudely. Edgar Wyndam regards him with something close to bemusement and he folds his arms as he regards him. Black suit. Black shirt and tie. Pale skin. Ice blue eyes. George wonders whether he’s deliberately advertising what he is.

“What are you doing out here George, isn’t it D-day? _Delivery_ day?” he enquires. George stares at him.

“First babies take their time in arriving, this one is no exception,” he answers coldly.

“So I’ve heard but no one has any idea what is going to come out in your case do they? Will it be human, will it have claws, or will it have a bit of both…that’s the beauty of all of this and I can’t _wait_ to meet him…or her” Wyndam smiles and George sees the glint of excitement in his shiny blue gaze.

“You’re not getting within six feet of our child,” he informs him. Wyndam gives a little laugh and unfolds his arms. He pats one shoulder almost brotherly.

“Really George and how do you propose you stop me?” he asks in a deceptively mild voice. George frowns at him.

“I’m not sure yet…but I’ll think of something,” he promises. Instead of being intimidated, Wyndam grins. It succeeds in sending a shiver of fear down George’s spine.

“That’s the spirit, I like a bit of gumption” he announces and then he looks over his shoulder.

“Umm…I _think_ that’s your cue” he informs him, pointing and George’s head swivels around and his eyes go wide again as he sees the people running into the room.

Ice cold fear grips him as he hears an alarm go off. Oh no…oh Christ no.

“Oh my God…oh my God…. _Nina!!_ ” he screams and he begins to run.

* * *

For a moment she can’t see anything, everything is bleached pure unadulterated white. She squints against the brightness, lifting a hand against it.

“What…” She turns. It’s utterly silent, she can’t hear a thing. She listens. Actually, it’s quite peaceful. Slowly she turns in a small circle.

_Where the hell am I?_

“Hey Nina.”

She quickly spins back around when she hears the voice, _that_ voice and her eyes widen when she sees him walk slowly towards her. She rolls her eyes.

“Oh you have to be bloody _kidding_ me!” she exclaims in disgust. He stops beside her and there’s a faint smile on his face.

“Nice to see you too,” he replies mildly.

She sighs loudly.

“You Mitchell… _you’re_ the one to meet me…actually where am i?” She looks around again. Everything is still so blindingly… _white_. It’s disconcerting. Her eyes widen as a thought occurs to her and she spins back around to look at Mitchell.

“Am i…am I in heaven?” she asks. He slowly smiles and then shakes his head.

“Believe me, they would’ve sent someone far better than me to meet you if that was the case.” He pauses. “You’re in Purgatory Nina."

She gapes at him for a moment.

“So I’m dead then, I _died_?” she demands in a sharp voice.

“Did you see a door? Do you remember going through said door?” Mitchell asks her. He watches her frown as she struggles to remember.

“I’m not sure. I remember feeling pain and when I opened my eyes I was…here.” She looks at him in confusion.

“Then you’re probably dead,” he explains and she swallows down the fear and panic that suddenly swells within her, she pushes away all her thoughts of George and the baby and what he must be feeling about now.

_Utterly insane with grief and completely hysterical if I know George_

“So this is where you are? Is this where all the vampires go when they’re…” She makes a stabbing gesture with her hand and her eyes then widen at the prospect of meeting up with Herrick again. She watches Mitchell shrug as he pushes his hands into the front pocket of his trousers.

“I don’t know, I’m still kind of new here myself.” He sees her staring at him and he looks down and his laugh is self-deprecating. “Oh yeah and there’s that.”

“I don’t think I’ve never seen you wear white… _ever._ ”

“Not a vampire colour right? I think it’s someone’s idea of a joke,” he answers and Nina regards him. He’s wearing white trousers and a loose fitting white shirt with a short collar. It makes him stand out starkly against all of the whiteness.

“What are you doing here Mitchell?”

She hears him sigh.

“I suppose I’m your guide, to help you in your transition,” he explains.

“Transition, transition to _where?”_ she demands irritably.

“Where do you think?” Mitchell retorts and he waits and watches how her eyes widen.

“What? No, I’m not going _there!_ ” she exclaims in outrage “What about George, what about our baby? They both need me, Wyndam wants to take our child, I have to be there, and I _have_ to protect them!” She turns as if that will send her back to where she’s come from. Mitchell’s hand clamps itself around her upper arm and stops her.

“No…Nina you don’t understand, you can’t go back. I think the powers that be thought it would be a good idea if someone was here to meet you, someone familiar and it seems as though I’ve drawn the short straw.”

“But you’re supposed to be…” Her words fade away. Mitchell watches her eyes fill with tears.

“I’m sorry. It’s ironic because the last time I was here, it was to save Annie and I got her back. I can’t do that for you.” His expression softens in sympathy.

“But _George_ …my baby, they won’t cope without me, He isn’t strong enough,” she hiccups.

“George is stronger than you think,” he reminds her gently. She looks up at him.

“He had a life before he met you and he’ll have a life without you.” He watches how she frowns; he can see the storm clouds gathering.

“Spoken like a truly soulless mass killer,” she hisses at him and he doesn’t look hurt, instead he looks resigned.

“I may have hated what I was Nina but I never denied it,” His voice is soft. She looks away for a moment.

“Come on.” He begins to walk and she slides a couple of steps before digging her heels in and Mitchell halts and looks at her, frowning in askance.

“No, I’m not going anywhere with you!” she snaps at him and he rolls his eyes.

“I don’t think you understand Nina, you don’t have a say in the matter, you _have_ to come with me,” he instructs her roughly. She pulls her arm free of his grip and rubs it.

“No Mitchell, _you_ don’t understand, I don’t _have_ to do anything,” she growls back at him, glaring at him. He frowns at her. “And don’t think that’s going to intimidate me mate, I remember what you were like and it didn’t bother me then,” she tacks on. He sighs loudly and groans in annoyance, pulling long fingers agitatedly through overlong dark curls.

“ _Bollocks_!” he explodes in frustration. He turns his back on her and she watches as he seems to hunch over on himself. After a moment he straightens.

“Now I get it. They knew you’d be a complete and utter pain in the arse so who better to deal with you than me, right?” He looks up at the ceiling and slowly shakes his head. He looks back at her.

“You really don’t have an option; you _have_ to come with me.”

“Or else what?” Her voice is low.

He’s not fooled at all. “Nina…”

“Don’t I get a _chance_? I need to get back there Mitchell, for George, for our baby” She then looks down at the white scrub top and trousers that she finds herself in and she frowns when she realises that she can see her feet. Her hands touch her stomach, it’s flat. She looks back at him. The baby must be with George, the baby must have survived. Do they have a son or a daughter she wonders?

“George has suffered so much recently Mitchell. He’s struggling over what he did to you…he misses you, he can’t lose me too, not now.” She watches him walk towards her and place gentle hands on her shoulders.

“It’s not up to me,” he tells her gently. “Come on.” He reaches for her hand and she lets him take it. His skin is cool to the touch and they’re walking again. A door appears and her grip tightens nervously on his and he glances at her.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures her and he opens the door.

* * *

The corridor is very dark and for a moment she can’t see a thing. She blinks and waits for her eyes to adjust. She realises that she’s still clinging to Mitchell’s hand and she slowly lets go.

“Where are we?” she asks and again he glances at her.

“A corridor. With doors.” He indicates them with his other hand and she finally notices the different doors opposite her. The ones that she can see are different from each other in style and colour.

“What’s behind them?” she asks and slowly he turns his head and he regards her.

“How should I know? It’s not about me or my life Nina, it’s about you.”

“What are you talking about?” she demands sharply.

“Haven’t you got it yet? This is all about you. I’ve been through this before; they’re not interested in me.”

“When you got Annie back”

“Yeah,” he responds curtly.

Nina takes a deep breath and looks at him once more.

“I don’t want to do this,” she admits and she watches him shrug.

“So don’t but be warned, you’ll be stuck here, you won’t be able to go back…and you won’t go forward, it’s your choice.”

She sighs raggedly.

“Bloody hell,” she grumbles. She takes a step forwards and then stops. She looks at Mitchell.

“You’ll…you’ll be with me?” It galls her that she asks him of all people this but he’s right about the familiarity and even though it’s Mitchell, it does comfort her a tiny little bit. She reaches out and grasps the gold coloured door handle and pauses. She looks at him again.

“Why Mitchell? Why do I have to do this?” she demands and he rolls his eyes in frustration.

“Believe me Nina if I knew I’d tell you. I’m just the bloody door monitor, the guide that’s all, I’m just supposed to get you through the door and stay with you,” he grumbles.

“I don’t want to be here,” she confesses and the look Mitchell sends her is dark.

“I know. Nobody does,” he tells her.

He watches as she turns the handle. Light floods through as she opens the door. She stands on the threshold, unsure of what she’s going to find, terrified of what lies behind the door. She takes a deep breath and steps over. She stops and she freezes, her eyes going wide.

“Oh Christ,” she mutters.

* * *

She can smell the booze from here. She can’t move as different memories assault her at the same time and not one of them good. She sees her at the small square table and her stomach drops and her bowels turn to water. Even now, God knows how many years later, this woman still has the power to terrify her.

“She can’t see you or hurt you,” Mitchell murmurs into her ear. She flinches slightly but she doesn’t look at him, or even acknowledge him.

“Who is she?” he asks and she turns her head very slightly, makes very brief eye contact with him before looking back at her.

“She’s my mother.” Her voice drips with disgust and loathing as she watches her pour a measure of vodka into a grubby glass and slug it down. The glass hits the table and Nina flinches ever so slightly at the sound it makes. She sighs shakily.

“What am I doing here?” she asks him. Mitchell shrugs one shoulder and goes further into the room. She watches him with wide eyes as he goes around the table staring at the older woman with what she can only describe as open curiosity. He lifts his head and looks at her.

“She’s an alcoholic?” Nina nods faintly and takes a tentative step closer. Mitchell pauses and watches her.

“She can’t see you Nina,” he reminds her and she gasps as he stands on one of the kitchen chairs and in one smooth movement, climbs up onto the table. Nina watches her mother. She doesn’t see him, or acknowledge him. Instead she pours herself another measure of vodka and it’s then that she sees the letter open in front of her. She goes towards her and stands behind her but Mitchell notices that she keeps a safe distance away from her.

“What’s her name…your mam?” he asks and she glances up at him.

“Isabel Pickering and will you please get down from there, you look ridiculous,” she hisses at him. He shrugs and jumps down and still her mother doesn’t acknowledge their presence. It’s the strangest thing. Nina stares at the back of her head. She reeks of alcohol, stale sweat and other things. She looks back at Mitchell.

“She hated me so much,” she mutters. Mitchell doesn’t say anything as he goes to stand beside Nina and he peers over Isabel’s shoulder. He reads the letter.

“It’s from social services, informing her that she no longer has any parental rights over you,” he comments and he watches her eyes, they’re so sad.

“I’m not surprised,” she sighs tiredly and pulls her fingers through her hair.

“She used to hit me, told me I was a waste of space, a… _mistake._ ” Mitchell continues to watch her, noticing how one arm comes up and goes across her stomach almost protectively. He sees huge tears well in her eyes and then spill over.

“What happened?” he asks in a low voice and she turns her head suddenly and she looks at him mildly startled. For the briefest of moments she had forgotten that he was even there.

“Wh...What?”

“For you to be taken away from her?”

Nina blinks and she wipes away the tears. She presses her lips together in a thin line as she remembers. She swallows and takes a breath.

“Oh. She was drunk…as usual…she objected to me wanting to make myself something to…eat. Y’see I learned very early on not to rely on her for that kind of thing, that level of motherly… devotion. I was heating up some…soup, she _objected_ to me doing that… and she picked up the pan from the ring and flung it at me, saucepan and all,” she tells him, frowning slightly at the memory. She can still remember that day so clearly, opening the can of tomato soup, buttering a couple of slices of bread whilst it heated up and her mother lurching into the kitchen and screaming at her. She can still feel the pain of the hot soup burning through her thin t-shirt. She’s not been able to tolerate tomato soup since. She frowns again and she looks at Mitchell one more time and she sees his expression of mild horror.

“God. Sorry,” he replies and Nina shrugs.

“Why should you be? It wasn’t your fault. Anyway it was my PE teacher the next day who noticed the burns, I’d tried to hide them but she took me to accident and emergency and they contacted social services,” She shrugs again. “It was all such a long time ago, why bring it up now?” she retorts crossly.

“You’ve just become a mother yourself, maybe it’s connected to that?” he suggests and the look she sends him is scornful.

“I’ll never be like her.”

“So you say but maybe it’s been lurking at the back of your mind, subconsciously?” Nina sighs raggedly.

“Okay, I will admit that the thought crossed my mind when I first found out that I was pregnant. For a while I didn’t intend to go through with it because of…her.” Her voice lowers.

“But you did go through with it; you’re very strong willed Nina but you did and why was that?” he asks and slowly she lifts her eyes to his.

“Because of George,” she whispers.

“Because he loves you and because you know that he’ll be there for this baby no matter what. What happened to your dad?”

Nina turns her head and looks back at her mother.

“I never knew him, he’s never been in my life, ever,” she confesses.

“Then we have one thing in common, I never knew my dad either.”

Nina’s expression is scornful as she turns her head in his direction. Her eyes chill.

“And look how you turned out,” she drawls.

Mitchell doesn’t respond.

* * *

They’re back in the corridor again and Nina doesn’t remember how they got there.

“You alright?” Mitchell asks her in a low voice. She huffs out a sigh and then nods.

“Did you have to do this when you came to get Annie?” she asks him. She sees the haunted expression in his eyes and eventually he nods.

“Yeah, wasn’t pleasant,” he replies shortly. “Where to next?” he asks her and watches how her eyes widen again.

“What…I have to do this _again?_ ” she exclaims. “I have to get back, I have to be with George,” she reminds him. Mitchell sighs roughly and slowly shakes his head.

“Until _they’re_ happy then you have to keep opening doors and dealing with what’s behind them.” He sees the horror seep into her eyes at that thought. “I didn’t say that it’d be fun,” he reminds her gently.

* * *

The next door is a bright, vibrant fire engine red. Mitchell watches Nina open it and this time she peers around the edge before going inside.

Mitchell straightens when she sees the man lying on the untidy bed. His mouth drops open and he gives Nina a distinctly speculative look.

“He looks enough like me to be my brother,” he comments, surprise colouring the tone. Nina’s expression is one of borderline embarrassment.

“Well he wasn’t… _obviously_ ,” she mutters. Mitchell watches as a door opens and a girl he doesn’t recognise comes in. She smiles at the bed’s occupant before she begins to strip off and she climbs on to it.

“Oh my God,” Nina whispers covering her face. Mitchell looks at her again and feels her mortification keenly. She lowers her hands and she turns to look at him.

“His name is… _was_ Tony and he was my…boyfriend. I was training to be a nurse and I was… smitten by him and _that_ was how he repaid me.” She flings her arm out in their general direction but she doesn’t look at them. She’s blushing fiercely now.

“It took me a long time to come around to what he was up to and even longer to get over it. He was the last of them.”

“The last of what?” Mitchell asks curiously.

“Men I let use me, oh they were handsome, great in bed but complete and utter bastards, Tony was a _real_ prince,” she retorts acidly. He casts a look at him on the bed.

“I hope you gave him a good kick in the bollocks,” Mitchell murmurs and she can’t help it, she smiles.

“Amongst other things.”

“Was that why…you and me…we never really got along did we?”

Nina shrugs. “Maybe, I don’t really know.”

Mitchell takes a step closer to her, his eyes on her face.

“Be honest now because I don’t think you ever really liked my friendship with George, you never really accepted that we had a bond.”

“That’s not true, you were _there!_ ”

“You tolerated me Nina, be truthful now.” She sighs raggedly and she pulls her fingers through her hair again.

“Okay, you’re right, I _tolerated_ you,” she admits.

Mitchell just looks at her.

“George was my friend Nina. I didn’t have many of those, especially those that I would trust with my life. I was truly happy for you both and I would never have come between you.”

He looks back at the couple writhing on the bed.

“You should thank him.” He tilts his head towards them and she briefly glances towards them and away again.

“What the hell for?”

“Because if you’d stuck with him, you would never have met George.”

“And let’s not talk about the whole werewolf saga Mitchell, if you hadn’t pushed me towards George I wouldn’t have had to deal with all of that, maybe I wouldn’t even be here now,” she retorts tartly.

“You know your own mind Nina, I _showed_ you George, the rest you did yourself.” He stares at her, daring her to contradict him.

“You push Nina. You push buttons, you push people, you just push and when it all explodes in your face then you decide to not stick around or you blame somebody else, someone like me for example.”

“You bastard.”

“I tried to keep you out of that isolation room but you were insistent. I tried to get you away from George during his transformation and afterwards, when he’d scratched you, you decided you didn’t need us at all. You thought that you could do it all by yourself.” Mitchell’s voice becomes hard and relentless.

“Enough!” she yells at him and he just regards her.

“I didn’t want to rely on any of you, I’ll admit to that. I had to get my head around it all in my own time, my own way and it was probably the wrong thing to do but given what you now know about me, do you blame me? I’ve always been self-sufficient. I’ve always been better by myself; it’s a hard habit to break.”

“And how were you going to cope with this baby Nina, you’re going to have to trust George completely.”

“I do trust him.”

“Do you now?”

She glares at him again.

“What are you going to do when the going gets tough because it will. Juggling a newborn as well as your once a month transformations, how are you gonna deal with all of that? Rely on Annie?” he shoots back at her.

“I don’t know,” she admits quietly. Her expression then hardens again.

“But we’ll work it out, that’s what George and me do, we work it out.” She turns her head as she hears the sounds the occupants of the bed are making.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this, I haven’t even told George about Tony.”

“Well it’s not like I can tell anyone else now is it?” Mitchell replies and she sees the faint twinkle in his eyes. Her own roll and she shakes her head. She glances back at the bed and at the sexual gymnastics currently taking place on it. Her stomach churns.

“Can we please leave now?” she asks him. Mitchell nods.

“Sure,” he replies.

* * *

“Oh great, _another_ white room,” she comments drily as she looks around. She looks at Mitchell who is doing the same thing. It looks like a giant cafeteria with tables and chairs dotted around. They’re the only occupants.

“What is this place?” she asks and he looks at her.

“I don’t know Nina, I’ve never been here before,” he admits. He turns his head to one of the tables. He frowns when he sees two white cups filled with tea. Without another word, they both sit down.

“It looks a bit like a…waiting room,” she comments as she wraps her hands around the cup in front of her. She can feel the heat permeate her skin. She looks across the table at him.

He shrugs.

“Maybe that’s what it is.”

“But waiting to go where?”

“I don’t know but I’m guessing up or…” His words peter away. He sighs.

“Maybe they think you deserve a second chance.” She watches him pick the cup up to take a sip. He frowns very slightly as he gently blows on the liquid before doing so.

“Has that ever happened before?”

He glances at her and puts the cup back down.

“Annie’s visit here was a mistake, maybe yours is too, like I said, I’ve never been here before. I escort people to their doors, I listen to them talk, cry or rant, I’ve never gone further than the corridor so this is a new experience for me.”

“So all of this, it’s your punishment, to be this guide, because of what you’ve… done…before...”

“Before George killed me, you can say it Nina, I’m fine with it.” He keeps his voice low. Nina sighs raggedly. She rests an elbow on the table surface and puts her chin in her hand.

“I wish that he was. He regrets what he did; he wishes there had been another way.”

“There wasn’t. There couldn’t be another way, not one that I would’ve been content or comfortable with. He did the right thing Nina as I knew he would.” He looks down into his cup for a moment.

“I do miss you all. You made me feel more…human, I guess, but I’m okay with all of this, I really am.” He straightens in his chair and Nina frowns as she sees him glance around, his expression turning edgy. He leans across the table and he covers her hand with his.

“What’s the matter?”

“Listen to me Nina. I’m sending someone to you; he’ll be at the house in a few days. He’s like me and you’re to let him in. He’ll protect you, against Wyndam, against everyone. His name is Cutler and I’ve known him for a long time. He’s a good guy.” His whispered words come out in a bit of a rush and she struggles to hear them all.

“What? Why are you telling me this Mitchell?”

He frowns as he stares into her eyes.

“Because you need to know who to trust and you can trust him. Tell George he can trust him.” He squeezes her hand. She sits up straighter as the room seems to glow almost luminously. A rushing sound fills her head and she feels coldness envelop her.

* * *

“Nina?”

The voice sounds like it’s coming from a great distance away. She frowns as she tries to listen, to try and recognise it. The coldness rushes away and something else rushes in. Her eyes pop open.

“George,” she whispers and sees a face swim into her line of vision. She focuses on it and she sees familiar blue eyes, sweetly, adorably familiar blue eyes.

“Hey.” His voice is low, his smile is gentle. Then she becomes aware of a deep aching in her lower body.

“I hurt,” she moans. She feels his hand, so wonderfully warm, gently grasp hers.

“You’ve had emergency surgery, a caesarean to save the baby. You started to bleed really heavily and then you flat lined, we thought you were dead.” She sees his eyes fill with tears.

“We?”

“Annie and me. We were so scared, so scared that we were going to lose you too,” he admits. Nina frowns as something tickles the corner of her mind.

“Where’s our baby?” She sees him smile again and this one radiates of joy.

“She’s in the nursery being taken care of. She’s fine, seven pounds in weight but she’s _fine_ and wait til you see her, she’s so beautiful, and she looks just like you.” The tears drip off his chin and he wipes at his face.

* * *

The nurse lays the infant in Nina’s arms and she looks down at her. She’s utterly perfect with plump pink cheeks, George’s chin and a fine covering of light brown hair. She weighs next to nothing and Nina can’t help but smile at her. This is her child, her daughter. She swallows against the lump that forms in her throat and then she looks at George and she smiles.

“She’s perfect,” she admits.

* * *

She’s been home a week now and she will be honest and say that it’s been a week that has been quite frankly hellish. Baby Eve does not know day from night and as a result, neither does she or George. Annie has been a big help in her own way, the baby distracts her from thoughts of Mitchell, of her feelings of deep grief. Nina doesn’t mind that she focuses on the baby like that. She debates constantly whether to tell George and Annie about what she saw, who she saw and what he said. She has been surprised that neither of them has asked her anything about it. Her thoughts are distracted by a knock on the front door.

“Are we expecting anyone?” George asks her as he gets to his feet, Eve nestled in his arms. Nina feels a jolt of something inside of her.

 _I’m sending someone to you; he’ll be at the house in a few days. He’s like me and you’re to let him in_

Mitchell’s voice resonates clearly inside of her head.

“I don’t think so,” she hedges but she follows him to the door anyway.

George opens the front door and he frowns at their visitor. He’s tall, thin and pale with slightly overlong reddish brown hair and wide hazel brown eyes. He regards them curiously and Nina can sense the jittery energy that seems to emanate from him. George seemingly can too as his eyes narrow suspiciously.

“You must be George, am I right?” he enquires in a brisk tone and George regards him. He tightens his hold on his daughter and looks at Nina.

“It depends on who wants to know,” he replies instead. The visitor looks at Nina and he smiles and holds out a hand.

“My name is Cutler; I’m a friend of Mitchell’s. Is he here?” He peers across the threshold. George takes a stumbling step backwards and shakes his head, his eyes suddenly wide.

“No…he’s….he’s…” The words fail to materialise and Cutler frowns, dropping his hand.

“Am I too late? This must be the baby he mentioned…and you have to be Nina...can I come in?”

Nina stares at him with wide, astonished eyes. She had begun to think that her experience with Mitchell had been a bit of a hallucination, down to a starvation of oxygen or worse but here he is, as Mitchell promised her.

Cutler.

“No!” George exclaims but Nina steps forward. She looks at Eve, sleeping peacefully in her father’s arms. Mitchell said that Cutler would protect their child against Wyndam and other such souls and she’s the most important person in their world now. She takes a deep breath and she looks at Cutler and then she smiles.

“Yes, please, come in.”

**END**


End file.
